Musings Of A Private Detective
by AwkwardDotard
Summary: During Sherlock and John's tedious evening together, Sherlock's mind begins to wander. You can continue it with your imagination...
1. Chapter 1

**Musings of a Private Detective**

Yet another day surrounded with blithering fools who barely use their minds. It was enough to make any private investigator fall into a fit of rage. "John, I've told you once before, the eyeballs go in the lower compartment!" Sherlock groaned in exasperated tones. Albeit his annoyance, he was far from pure anger, and did not want to hurt the feelings of his friend. "Put the eyeballs here, the testicles here... Does anything I do ever make you happy?" John replied, with a hint of teasing in his voice. Mistaking the comment as one intended to insult, Sherlock smirked and swiftly replied; "I can think of a better place to put the latter, John."

"Oh bravo." John muttered sarcastically, before acquiescing and returning to his tedious task of finding a suitable place for the heinous objects Sherlock used for his experiments.

Opening his lower drawer, Sherlock retrieved his journal and scanned over the day's work. A family murdered. Two men convicted, both in their forties with thinning hair and a gristly countenance. Secretly, Sherlock believed that had it not been for his animated domestic life with John, he would have succumbed to boredom and eventually madness long ago. It seemed that each monotonous day, solving cases and dealing with Anderson's quips and spats had completely taken over Sherlock's life. But upon his meeting John, everything changed. John was the splash of colour to the greyscale panorama which had now become his adult life. Never before had Sherlock met another like John, who could take one look at the former and tell deceit from truth and laughter from lies; was this love?

A high functioning sociopath, a freak. That was what he seemed to the world, however to John, he was a friend. Nothing less and nothing more, yet deep down in his clockwork mind, he wished the latter untrue. Two beings, sat juxtaposed on either end of a living room deep in the heart of London, one having feelings for the other. Sherlock knew that identifying emotion and scutinising every other motion that people made was his skill set, yet he could not bring himself to work out whether John reciprocated his feelings with equal intensity. Casting a swift glance across the room, Sherlock's eyes met the sight of his friend carefully pouring a cup of tea into a sparkling china pot. Was this was his life was coming to? Aimlessly placing John under direct scrutiny, looking for any sign of interest? Before he had a chance to divert his gaze, John looked up, eyes piercing his own. His mouth formed the likeliness of a smile before speaking, but nothing could have prepared Sherlock for what John was about to say.

"I t's fine. I love you too."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

_I love you too. _The four words circled Sherlock's brilliant, calculating mind for a few fleeting moments. At first, he was unable to register what John had just said, but as his mind cleared, the emotion began to sink in. Despite his genius-level intellect, Sherlock found himself unable to decipher this mere sentence.

"Wh-what did you just say?" The words spilled out of Sherlock's mouth as soon as he was able to compose himself. John saw straight through his veil of confusion.

"I love you. I've always loved you." He gently said, "Why do you have to be so distant all the time? I can see when you're in pain, and when you're not."

Sherlock did not know what to do with this information. Generally, upon hearing a new fact or figure, he would simply bury it within the thick layers of his forever occupied mind, and when the time arose, he would pick it out with ease. This however, was different.

This required emotion.

Sentiment.

"John..." Sherlock began slowly, "I... I can't..." His ability to speak and reason had long since deserted him.

"You can't what, Sherlock? I know it's true. Just say it. Three words." John's face hardened as he faced Sherlock with this crushing ultimatum. The curtness in his friend's face stung Sherlock as if he had been physically injured. This was all terribly new. The last emotional bond he had formed with another was when he was an infant. And that had been with his own parents. Never before had the pain of somebody else affected him so. Still, through his clockwork mind, came a voice. A voice telling him that although it was wrong, love had to prevail. Before Sherlock was able to pluck up the courage to tell John the truth, yet another thought occurred. Danger. Sherlock's life was rife with it. How much jeopardy would he be putting John in if he professed his love for him? An unthinkable amount, Sherlock presumed.

"Come on, Sherlock. Please. Look, I know this is hard for you, but I'm running out of-"

"I love you, John!" Sherlock screamed, as if possessed by some sort of compelling force. He clamped his hand over his mouth. It was done. There was no turning back now.

"Right. That's that, then." John whispered, while taking slow, intimate steps in Sherlock's direction. There was something in the way that John walked towards him. Something very feline-like. Sherlock's breath hitched in his throat before he was able to formulate another sentence. John drew close. Sherlock could feel the warmth of his skin on his. He closed his eyes. He knew what would happen next.


End file.
